Alexei Vesselov

GARDENS OF DELIGHT


Point one

THE INTERNATIONALIST"S MEMORIAL PARK

I
The wind
Rolls
Spherical willows
through the field.

Crunchy sand
Under gray ice.

II
The last ice
On the pond.
Leaden-shaded
Underlying traces
Of yesterday"s
Ski tracks.

III
Lonely tram
At the station booth.

IIII
Noise of the avenue
Is left behind.
Cold reed 
Converses in whispers.

V
When
Grebes and ducks come back
To the water again
I"ll write
Something new.

VI
It"s raining 
Over the hills.
Shadows of trees
On the white void.

VII
The hesitant man
On the big puddle"s shore.
Ever more lights
Behind 
The Southern highway.

VIII
Cold ways
Between the hills
Under the low sky. 
Point two

SHREVENPARK

I
Martin Luther"s 
Church bell
Is singing
Alone
For the weeping willow.

II
Barefooted man
On the bench
Is looking at the meadow,
Is looking
At geese and mews.

III
Skillful players,
Sophisticated audience.
Bums
Of metal balls.
The Big Game
On the bowling alley.

IIII
The smell of smoke,
The meadow
Getting cool.
This summer
Saturday night.
The lantern
Slowly blinking 
In the twilight.

V
Ducks and ducklings,
Geese and goslings
And me
In the
Middle
Of the lawn.


 
Point three

KURAKIN DACHA GARDEN

I
The sunlit
Fluff of cottonwoods
Flies.
Thoughtful
Walks the yardman
Along the wall.
 
II
The picture from my childhood:
In asphalt ring
The barren apple trees
In bloom.

III
Glossy trunks.
The sun
Dried out the cavin.
 
IIII
The whir of cars
Is being
Muffled up
By bird"s twitter,
By people"s voices.

V
"Like a toy" -
Looking at the car
From behind
Old apple trees.

VI
Meek aged apple trees.

VII
Young swiftness of cottonwoods.

VIII
Gentle wisdom of lindens.

VIIII
Refinement of euonymus.

X
Delicate riot of dog rose.

XI
Treachery of stinging nettle.
 
XII
Frequent attack of buttercups.

XIII
Shyness of green grass.

XIIII
Silver and diamonds:
Horseflies
Sitting on stubs.

XV
A little bug flies
Between the pages... 


 
Point four

DUSTERNBROOK WOOD

I
Breathing of the soil.
Previous autumn
In the second ravine.

II
The long path
To the hollow.
Unknown trees
Look friendly.

III
I"ve been in autumn
Two hours more.
I"ve shortened
My way
Through the wood. 


 
Point five

SUMMER GARDEN

As well
As Pushkin
I"m here
At home.






Point six

ANDREAS GAYK WOOOD

I
Last year"s leaf
Is rolling
Along
The yellow brick path.

II
The Wind.
Holed
Crow"s nests.

III
Yellow-eyed
Blackbird
Crosses the road.
And I
Must go home too.


 
Point seven

HAMBURG SQUARE WASTE GROUND

I
The Rebar
Basks in the sun.

II
Holes,
Willows,
Dusty roads.
Someone
Having a nap.

III
The tasks
Are driven
Into the lazy summer day.
Debris
Are driven
Into the trail.
Swell
Traffic jam
On the avenue.